


Silhouettes

by Tashilover



Category: Endeavour, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Child Death, Gore, horror themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Morse deviated from the path, other people suffered the consequences.</p><p> </p><p>A slender man fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a slender man fic from Morse's perspective. =3

There were strict rules to follow. There were no exceptions, no negotiations, no loopholes. If Morse deviated from the path, other people were the ones who suffered the consequences.

1\. If Morse saw him, he had to go to him. It didn't matter if he had a date, didn't matter if he were holding the hand of a sick friend. If Morse saw him- in a crowd, in a window reflection, behind his eyelids or in his dreams - he had to drop everything and go to him.

2\. He had to bring a gift. In the beginning when Morse was young, gifts were easy. He could draw a picture and that alone would have been sufficient. But as he got older, the gifts too needed to be a little more elaborate, more _rich_. Unfortunately traditional gifts like stationary or gloves did not cut it. It had to be something more personal. The last time Morse went to go see him, the gift he brought was the only photograph he had of his mother.

3\. Above all else, no one but **him** was allowed to be number one in Morse's heart. Morse could have friends, he could have lovers, but the moment they became special to him, horrible, terrible things happened. Back in university, when Morse had considered for a mere nano-second about asking Susan to be his wife, the nearby hospital caught on fire and every child in pediatrics had perished.

It was no coincidence. After the fire was put out and the bodies taken away, a reporter had taken a photo of the aftermath. He was startled to find, on the wall of the pediatrics, someone had drawn a sihouette of a tall, thin figure out of ash. Surrounding the figure were smaller silhouettes, seventeen in all, the exact number of children who died.

It took for Morse years to figure out the rules. So many people suffered from his many trials and errors. University was the last time he slipped.

But that's the problem. He knew it was only a matter of time before he made a mistake. It was human nature. Maybe he'll bring the wrong gift, maybe he'll fall in love again. It was only a matter of time.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is Amelia Balchz."

Thursday held up her school photo. She was a homely-looking girl, with curly hair and freckles dotting her nose. She looked a lot younger than fifteen. Copies of her photo were passed around the precinct, each officer taking their time to look at it. In all, there were twenty-seven men avaliable to search for Amelia.

According to her parents, she was a happy, well adjusted girl. She has plenty of friends, no boyfriend, and did not show signs of distress or fraught in the past month.

"She's been missing for nearly fifteen hours now. She was last spotted taking the shortcut through Dylan Circle to get to her neighbourhood. That walk should have only taken fifteen minutes. As of right now, we're not running under the assumption she has become a victim of foul play. Due to the icy conditions we've had for the past few days, she probably tripped and fell. It is because of these conditions we have need for worry. We expect snow in the next hour and for the temperature to drop drastically. I want this search to be clean, to be fast. Any questions?"

There were none.

"We move, then," said Thursday. "Let's go."

By the time enough cars and supplies were mobilized, the sun was already setting. Jakes, Morse and Thursday took the Jaguar, quietly leading the way to Dylan Circle, a popular local hiking spot. Morse has never been on the trails himself, but according Monica, it was a great place to venture during the beginning of Autumn when the trees were turning colours. She had invited him for a picnic back in August, and he kept turning her down, using work as an excuse.

He thought he was getting too close to her and wanted to back off.

"It's starting to snow," said Jakes.

He was right. Small fluffs of white spotted the windshield, prompting him to turn on the wipers.

If it wasn't for the dire situation, Morse would be enjoying himself. He liked snow. He wasn't a fan of the cold but has always thought the sight of falling snow was quite lovely. As important as it was to help this girl, he wished he were home, a cup of hot tea in his hands, watching the snow drift down from a safe spot by his window.

"You alright there, Morse?" Thursday asked.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking about how pretty the snow looks at the moment."

Jakes huffed. "Of course you think it's pretty. Except this is going to be hell on visual."

"It's not falling fast. We still have a chance to find the girl before it gets too heavy."

The words were barely out of his mouth when suddenly the snow outside kicked up a notch and started falling faster, heavier, and thicker by the second.

Morse could hear the sneer in Jakes's voice. "Someone up there doesn't like you."

By the time they got to Dylan Circle, the snow had started to stick to the street and walking pavements. "We're low on time!" Thursday cried out to the gathering officers. "In five minutes we are starting the search! Gather your torches and get in position!"

Everyone was ready within two minutes. The snow was coming in from three directions, the wind carrying it from behind, above, and from the left. No matter how Morse positioned his hat, snow still found a way to sneak underneath and freeze his skin. Jakes was sinking further into his own coat, miserably popping his collar every few seconds, trying to keep the snow out. Strange, who was a few men down the line, had a hat, gloves, earmuffs and a coat that looked like it could take on old man Winter himself. Lucky bastard.

Torches on, everyone took their spot in front of the edge of the woods.

"Foward!" Thursday yelled. With a single step in unison, everyone marched into the woods.

Nobody was talking. They were quiet in case the girl, Amelia, was crying out for help. Though Morse wasn't sure if they could've heard her anyways. The howling of the wind was too loud.

The snow wasn't helping. A few of the officers were already slipping and falling on the ice, others were getting themselves trapped by unseen branches and limbs. Five minutes into the search and already two uniforms had to pull back after they twisted their knees.

Morse had the unfortunate luck by finding every goddamn exposed tree root in the entire forest. He's already fallen four times, forcing him back from the search line. "Morse, catch up!" Thursday yelled at him, not slowing down or giving any sympathy.

By the time Morse tumbled over his sixth root, he was stuck in the middle of the search. Thursday and Jakes were way up ahead, their backs almost unseen through the snow and trees. Far behind were other officers who were having a worse time than him. Besides one or two officers who were having as much luck as he was, he was more or less by himself.

"C'mon," Morse muttered to himself, determined to keep going. The snow was already soaking in through his cheap boots.

Dylan Circle was not an area Morse himself was familiar with. Though it was close to the neighbourhoods and shops, the rolling hills and steep treaded paths deterred the usual common stroller. If Amelia chose this route to get home every day from school, then surely she would've been aware of all its dangers. Had she been forced to take a different route perhaps? Was this truly the path she took?

Morse stopped. He needed to try something new.

Nobody tried to stop him as he trudged off track into a different area of the forest. It didn't make sense Amelia would be here. The other route was more direct and safer, but if she hadn't been found by now, then she wasn't there.

Besides the hiking areas, Dylan Circle had another attraction: the lake. It was in the opposite direction of Amelia's route, but it was the only other place Morse thought she could've gone. Perhaps she wanted to see the water frozen over. Maybe she wanted to take the more scenic route.

At this point Morse barely needed his torch. The white snow made everything so bright. He turned it off and let it hang on his belt buckle, allowing him full use of his hands. The special gloves Monica had knitted him for his birthday last year were ruined.

He got to the lake five minutes later. He was exhausted. The cold air seeped into his lungs, freezing him to his core. He was surpised he could even make the steam puffs with his ragged breaths. He was sure there was no heat left within him.

The lake itself was covered in snow, ruining the sight. It simply looked like a flat surface covered in white. Morse scanned the area, suddenly feeling foolish for abadoning his position in the search line. He certainly wouldn't hear the end of it if Thursday had to lend out men to search for _him_.

Morse glanced down upon the hills, and hoped Amelia wasn't here. With the way the snow was piling up here, these hills were capable of creating their own miniture avalanche.

He peered over the slope, and halfway down, he spotted her.

She was buried, half of her body sticking out. If it wasn't for her bright red coat, Morse could have easily missed her.

Morse struggled with indecision. Getting to her would be dangerous, he needed rope and muscle to get her out of there. But if he went back for help, she could be buried and lost within moments. He didn't know if she was even alive.

She needed help. Now.

With a breath, Morse began to climb down.

Every step was methodical, every weight change was carefully evaluated before moving on. Snow slipped up the hem of his trousers, freezing his calves. He couldn't feel his feet, they were so cold.

"Amelia!" He said, gasping. "Can you hear me? Amelia Balchz!"

There was a stir in the red coat. Amelia moaned.

"Amelia!" Morse said again. He precariously slid down two feet, nearly falling over himself. He didn't care. He was so close.

Amelia achingly lifted her head. Her wet brown hair clung to her face and neck. "W-w-w-what's going on? I-I-I-I-"

Morse got to her. From underneath the snow, his feet struck what felt like a fallen log. This alone was what must've kept her from falling even further. "Can you move?"

"I..." She struggled to get up. "I can't... feel my... my... my..."

"That's alright. Here, grab onto me."

He helped her sit up, curling her arm around his neck. She felt colder than the snow itself. "I got you. I got you."

Morse lifted her up. As he turned, ready to climb back up the slope, he saw him.

He wasn't that far away. He was standing between two trees, his tall, thin body helping him blend in. Snow continued to fall gently around him, though none of the flakes ever touched him. For a startling second, Morse was in awe of the sight. It was a lot like staring into the eyes of a tiger. He saw something beautiful and mysterious but was fully aware the beast could rip his face off with a single swipe.

The actual sight of the tall man has never scared him. Morse has known him too long, seen him too many times to be startled by his impossible height and lack of an actual face.

But the first rule was quite clear, if he saw him, he had to go to him. "Please," Morse said, barely above a whisper. "Let me get this girl to the top, that's it, I swear, then I'll come. It'll only take five minutes. Please."

He stepped to the right, towards the direction of the top, and stumbled. It only lasted for a moment, he corrected his footing immediately, but when he looked up again, the tall man was gone.

As long as Morse followed the rules, nobody got hurt. He may have saved Amelia but someone was going to pay for his hesitation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Body horror

Thursday clapped his hand on Morse's shoulder, giving it a too-firm a squeeze.

"As glad as I am you found her, Morse," he said. "Later on, we're going to have a long conversation about going off on your own."

"I'm not sorry," Morse said.

"No, you never are. But do try to keep us in mind. I can't help you if you don't tell us what's going on."

Morse watched Amelia sit in the police car, holding her hands up to the heater. Due to the snow, the most of the emergency vehicles were stuck. Workers and officers both were digging to get them out. One of the ambulances were almost free, but when they tried to push it out, the tyres turned uselessly.

"For someone who saved the girl, you don't seem very proud of yourself."

Morse blew into his cup hands. Snow had long soaked through his gloves. His feet were numb. "I'm fine. Just cold."

"Well, don't worry. As soon as we get the cars free, we'll go somewhere warm."

That sounded nice. "Someplace with a roaring fire," Morse said, nodding. Have a quiet moment as he waited for the fallout. "The Woodhouse pub as a huge fireplace and-"

There was a scream. Morse looked over, and Amelia was pounding on the windows of the car desperately. "HELP ME! HELP ME!"

"What-?" Thursday said, taking a half step forward.

The interior of the car caught on fire. The front seat, the back seat, and the engine suddenly burst into flames like a lit match.

" _Jesus Christ!_ "

" _Get her out of there!_ "

" _Go, go, go!_ "

Morse knew there was nothing he could do, but damn him to hell if he didn't try. He ran over, immediately grabbing the door handle, and with a yell wrenched his hand back. His entire palm was severely burned.

Thursday pounded on the windows, slamming his elbow against them as hard as he could. Other officers around the car used large rocks and clubs to bash against them with no avail. Others gathered large chunks of snow to throw on top in a desperate attempt to smother the flames.

Inside Amelia continued to scream even as the fire engulphed her body. Morse helplessly watched her pale skin turn black, her lips burning to reveal her teeth, and her limbs curling in on themselves like a dying spider. When Amelia stopped screaming, that's when the officers finally backed away from the burning car. Every single one of them had various burns on their hands and clothes, but none ever made a dent on the glass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild body horror

Thursday clapped his hand on Morse's shoulder, giving it a too-firm a squeeze.

"As glad as I am you found her, Morse," Thursdaysaid. "Later on, we're going to have a _long_ conversation about going off on your own."

"I'm not sorry," Morse said.

"No, you never are. But do try to keep us in mind. I can't help you if you don't tell us what's going on."

Morse watched Amelia sit in the police car, holding her hands up to the heater. Due to the snow, the most of the emergency vehicles were stuck. Workers and officers both were digging to get them out. One of the ambulances were almost free, but when they tried to push it out, the tyres turned uselessly.

"For someone who saved the girl, you don't seem very proud of yourself."

Morse blew into his cup hands. Snow had long soaked through his gloves. His feet were numb. "I'm fine. Just cold."

"Well, don't worry. As soon as we get the cars free, we'll go somewhere warm."

That sounded nice. "Someplace with a roaring fire," Morse said, nodding. Have a quiet moment as he waited for the fallout. "The Woodhouse pub as a huge fireplace and-"

There was a scream. Morse looked over, and Amelia was pounding on the windows of the car desperately. "HELP ME! HELP ME!"

"What-?" Thursday said, taking a half step forward.

The interior of the car caught on fire. The front seat, the back seat, and the engine suddenly burst into flames, giving out a great roar like a beast from hell.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Get her out of there!"

"Go, go, go!"

Morse knew there was nothing he could do, but damn him to hell if he didn't try. He ran over, immediately grabbing the door handle, and with a yell, wrenched his hand back. His entire palm was severely burned.

Thursday pounded on the windows, slamming his elbow against them as hard as he could. Jakes instructed uniforms to use their clubs to crack the windows, and when that didn't work, they gathered large chunks of snow to throw on top in a desperate attempt to smother the flames.

Inside Amelia continued to scream even as the fire engulphed her body. Morse helplessly watched her pale skin turned black, knowing this was his fault, that by putting her above anyone else, she was the one who had to suffer the consequences.

"I'm sorry," Morse said to her. His words were drowned out by the noise and chaos all around him. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

When Amelia stopped screaming, that's when the officers finally backed away from the burning car. Every single one of them had various burns on their hands and clothes, but none ever made a dent on the glass.

 


End file.
